


Plastic Wrap

by Ladyylavender



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Crying, Depression, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, I miss Tony Stark, Men Crying, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker has PTSD, Peter Parker is a Mess, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Whump, again only mentioned, only kinda implied, only mentioned tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 15:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19976560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladyylavender/pseuds/Ladyylavender
Summary: “It’s getting hard to breathe. There’s plastic wrap in my cheeks”Peter is having trouble dealing with the aftermath of Endgame.





	Plastic Wrap

**Author's Note:**

> !WARNING!:  
> This fic contains mentions of PTSD, eating disorders and panic attacks  
> And deals with subjects of Depression, Intrusive thoughts, self harm and suicide  
> If you don’t wish to be exposed to these subjects, then please click away

“Peter, it’s time to get up!”

May stood in the doorway with an irritated look on her face. It was 1 in the afternoon and her nephew was still there in bed. Asleep.  
Pepper had invited the Parkers to spend the night at the lake house after the funeral. She said she wanted them to spend some time together after the..incident. And although May had protested and said she could get home safely, Pepper insisted. 

“Peter, honey. Please wake up already.”, May sighed and walked into the dark room. The lights were still off and the curtains were closed. The room was quite warm, though. Cozy too. And besides, Peter hadn’t gotten much sleep in the past few days, so it was easy to see him sleeping in. 

“Go away, May.”

That voice stopped May in her tracks. It was Peter’s. She wasn’t exactly surprised Peter wanted to stay in bed. What surprised her was how her nephew spoke. His voice was clear, stern and awake. Peter wasn’t groggy at all. He hadn’t just woken up. He was wide awake but still unmoving.  
“Oh Peter.”  
May rushed over to Peters bed and knelt down by his side. She knew exactly what this was. She had seen it countless times before. After the homecoming incident years ago, Peter wasn’t exactly fine and dandy. Tony hadn’t expected him to be and neither did May after she found out Peter had had a building dropped on him. Years later, Peter still hated boats. He still flinched when someone touched him unexpectedly. Once even, a book had fallen from a shelf on Peter and May had to help him through a panic attack. And of course, with the obvious signs of PTSD, came the depression. The days when things were bad.

May pulled the covers off of Peter’s face and felt her heart break. Peter was awake but it was his face...  
He had that distant, thousand yard stare. His eyes were red rimmed and half lidded. He seemed so tired and yet also awake.  
“Peter, honey? Are you not feeling well?”  
Her nephews eyes slowly looked up at her. Peter looked away again and shrugged weakly.  
“Can you talk?”  
A nod.  
“Do you want to?”  
He shook his head.  
Finally, May got up. She gently rubbed circles into the boys hair and frowned. There wasn’t much she could do. Usually Peter’s episodes lasted till the end of the day. But this time things were different. Peter had just lost someone he loved. He lost Tony. And although the woman was ashamed of her behaviour, she had never payed much attention to Peters immediate mental state after Ben’s passing. She was too wrapped up in her own suffering to think about her boy’s. May had no idea what to expect this time around. She had noticed just how much Peter cared about that man. Peter talked about him a lot. The woman had even seen some videos of her nephew and Stark working in their lab. It was quite clear the pair were inseparable. And although, May wouldn’t tell Peter (not until he admitted it to himself) she saw the two as a sort of father and son duo.

May’s hand releases Peter’s hair. “I’m gonna get you some food, ok?”  
Peter didn’t nod or even acknowledge his aunt was there, he never did during his episodes. So silently, May stood up, looked back at her bed ridden nephew, and left the room.

———

Everything felt..fuzzy. Like a thin layer of plastic was placed over Peter’s eyes. And yet strangely it also wasn’t there? Like that fuzzy feeling was only in his head and he wasn’t actually seeing it. It was weird. Life was weird. And terrible. And terrifying. And yet it also had good parts. Like hugs from Aunt May or funny movies or....  
He’s dead because of you!  
You killed him!  
Peter tried to not think about that. The days after the battle with Thanos had been a blur of tears, pain and general suffering. And now..well the boy hardly felt like moving. He hardly felt like living.  
You should die!  
This is all your fault!  
Kill yourself!

Peter had tried to speak to the rest of the team during the funeral. He tried to pay any sort of attention but he just couldn’t. Because Tony was gone. Tony was dead and he was never coming back. and it was all. His. Fault.  
Despite the terrible thoughts filling his head, Peter barely felt their affects. Usually he would be crying by now. But since the moment he woke up, everything was blank. Grey. Dull. Lifeless. Dead  
He’s dead and it’s all your fault  
The plastic wrap on his eyes also seemed to cover his mind. Peter couldn’t seem to feel anything. Not tears, not happiness, not anything. Any words from his consciousness couldn’t get through the plastic around his mind. It was a shield, a barrier. But Peter didn’t want that.   
He wanted to feel. Because emotions, even bad ones, are better than that hollow, space he was feeling at the moment.

Peter’s ears registered the faint sound of a door opening and he looked over to see his aunt walking in. His eyes lazily focused on what she was holding. It was a platter of crackers. They looked good but of course his stomach wasn’t exactly in the mood. In fact, the mere thought of eating made him sick. Figuratively at least. If he could even muster the energy to move he would probably try and make himself sick.  
Aunt May smiled fondly: “I have something for you, sweetheart.”. She placed the platter on the night table and sat by Peter. “How are you doing?”, his lack of response was enough. May sighed.  
She hates you, just like everyone else!  
You’re worthless!  
Why are you still alive!  
You let him die!  
Nobody likes you!

“I’m not hungry.”, Peter muttered.   
“We both know you have to eat.”, his aunt responded   
Peter nodded solemnly once more. Why was he even alive anymore? If it’s his fault Tony’s gone, why is he still allowed to live? His thoughts went darker, if that was even possible.  
You could grab a razor from the bathroom and slit your wrists!  
You don’t deserve to live!  
Maybe you should break that platter and stab yourself with the shards!

Peter looked over to the blue platter next to him. It was fairly plain. A simple blue shade with a white rim. He could definitely break it and use it.

“Peter, honey?”  
His mind snapped back to his aunts voice. She was looking down at him, concern clear in her expression.  
Look you made her worry, you useless waste of space!  
“ Yeah?”  
She frowned for a moment before lowering her head and kissing his forehead.   
“I love you, ok?”  
Peter nodded. Why was that all he could do? Aunt May stood up to leave. She might have said something else but Peter barely noticed. She was gone now. The fuzzy feeling was back, stronger than before. It was numbing. Truly numbing. and time wasn’t important anymore. There were only the thoughts. Those fucking thoughts.

You’re fucking useless   
You’re unlovable   
Everything is your fault  
You’re a fucking freak  
End yourself   
You’re a waste of air  
Fucking kill yourself  
Tony is dead because of you  
He hated you  
He always did  
You’re nothing, never forget that  
You killed Tony   
You killed Tony  
YOU KILLED TONY  
YOU KILLED TONY  
YOU KILLED TONY!

“Peter?”  
A new voice cut through his screaming voices. His eyes lazily rolled over to look at who it was. It definitely wasn’t Aunt May. It was Morgan? Her. Living proof that Tony hated Peter. That Peter wasn’t Tony’s real kid. That was just a fantasy. The wishful thinking of a child. A stupid child, a useless child, a waste of-  
“Are you ok?”  
Peter blinked dumbly trying to focus on Morgan’s face through the plastic wrap. He had seen her before. At the funeral. Of course, he didn’t even speak to her the day before. But she was the only one to snap him out of his daze that day, if only for a moment. She looked so much like Tony. Those eyes were brown and sharp, just like his. For a moment Peter thought she was really her father, back from the dead.  
“Hi, Morgan.”, Peter greeted her softly. She stood in the doorway wearing her pyjamas. They were blue with tiny, white flowers designed into the material. Morgan walked over to Peter’s bed carefully. As though she were afraid she might get hurt. Once she did get over though, she sat down rather quickly.  
“Did you need something?”, Peter asked as he failed to ignore the voices in his head. Morgan simply stared at him with a blank expression. Her eyes (Tony’s eyes) looked him over and stopped at his exposed arm. “You’re still in your PJS”, she stated matter of factly. It reminded Peter of how Pepper spoke.  
“Yeah I am”, the boy didn’t have enough will power to even care why she was asking that question. Morgan muttered something along the lines of “me too.”. Peter barely cared.  
“I don’t wanna get dressed without daddy.”  
Peter’s heart ached terribly. Was this really better than nothingness?   
“Daddy always helped me get dressed in the morning.”. God she sounded so young. She was just 4 years old and already had to experience losing her father. Peter had too. He had experienced three. Fucking. Times.  
“Your dad helped me make my suit. My spider suit.”, Peter barely cared wether or not he was supposed to tell the girl about Spider-Man. To his surprise she answered with “I know.”  
For the first time that morning, Peter properly turned his head and looked at Morgan. 

The girl was looking down at her feet, swinging them absentmindedly. Her brown hair fell down neatly by her face. She looked over at the boy in bed.   
“Daddy liked to show me videos and photos of you. He said you would save people by swinging around.”, and she smiled. Oh god her smile. Morgan’s mouth had that way of raising one corner slightly higher than the other. Just like Tony. “He talked about me?”, Peter turned his entire body to face Morgan. She grinned with her teeth. “Yeah, he said you were super, duper smart and strong.”. Peter felt his heart to swell. The plastic wrap started to peel off of his mind. 

“He said you were my big brother.”

Peter felt himself break out of the plastic shell with a blast. “He did?”, he hates the way his voice breaks at the end of the sentence. The tears start falling almost immediately. “Yup.”, Morgan smiles and he could tell she was just as sad as he is. Morgan is breaking inside just like Peter. And that paired with everything else, makes him cry. Really makes him cry. His face falls into his hands and he starts weeping.   
“I miss him so much.”  
“Me too.”  
Morgan is holding him.  
“I want him back.”  
“Me too.”  
Her voice starts to break too and Peter can feel tears drip onto his neck.  
“I want my dad.”  
Morgan is crying too and muttering agreeing words. and so it keeps going.  
She agrees to all of her brothers words.  
“I just want him to come back.”  
“Please come back, Tony.”  
“Dad, please.”  
“I loved him so much.”  
Every single sentence makes Peter ache with sorrow. Because it’s real. Everything is real. Tony is gone and he’s not coming back. Oh god why can’t he come back. Please give him back.   
Peter can’t seem to accept it and neither can Morgan. They just hold eachother tightly and try their best to comfort eachother. Because they just lost their dad. Their sweet, amazing, incredible dad.   
“I didn’t want him to go.”, Morgan mutters sadly through tears.   
Peter can’t even respond. He just holds his sister tighter. He hopes with all his heart that it will get better. That he won’t have to wake up everyday feeling alone and scared and missing Tony. Oh please let it get better.  
Eventually they stay silent, sobbing quietly. Solemnly trying to accept that their dad is gone forever. That they’re going to have to keep living without him. And maybe Peter can’t stop blaming himself just yet and maybe Morgan can’t stop feeling miserable just yet. But they have eachother. And they have friends to help them breathe through plastic.  
But for now everyone who’s lost Tony has to will themselves to keep living.

**Author's Note:**

> So this story was kinda hard to write. I do deal with a lot of the same issues as Peter I just had some trouble putting what I felt into words. I think I managed to do it ok though. And the ending part where Peter and Morgan comfort eachother was basically just me pouring my exact thoughts towards Tony’s death into this story. All in all I’m pretty happy with this fic. Oh and I didn’t mean to have this fic rely so much on the “plastic wrap” motif, it just kinda happened. Hope you guys enjoyed this and please stay safe :)


End file.
